Haunted
by Bobbie23
Summary: Prequel to Blackbird, set after Kiss it Better, though if you squinted it could link with Emily's reunion with Elizabeth in another of my stories, A Mother's Dream. Spoilers for Valhalla (6x17), Lauren (6x18) and 200 (9x14). Emily struggles with being alone in Paris.


**Author Note – my other prequel to **_**Blackbird, **_**set after **_**Kiss it Better, **_**though if you squinted it could link with Emily's reunion with Elizabeth in another of my stories, **_**A Mother's Dream. **_**Spoilers for **_**Valhalla (6x17), Lauren (6x18) **_**and **_**200 (9x14). **_**Hope you all enjoy, please don't hesitate to tell me what you think.**

**Disclaimer - I don't own Criminal Minds or any of the characters.**

Haunted

'_When people talk of __Ghosts__ I don't mention the Apparition by which I am haunted, the Phantom that shadows me about the streets, the image or spectre, so familiar, so like myself, which lurks in the plate glass of shop-windows, or leaps out of mirrors__.__'_

_Logan Pearsall Smith_

Emily shivered as the man ran past her for cover, knocking her balance slightly as he brushed against her. Over the other side of the street a couple flagged down a cab. But she continued on, pulling the lapels tighter around her neck as she walked through the streets of Paris. The rain was pouring down but it didn't bother her. She didn't have a hood or an umbrella and her hair was plastered to the sides of her face. It had been raining when she left the hotel; she just needed to get out. Drops of water travelled the length of her face and she wondered which ones were rain and which were tears.

Three weeks ago Emily arrived in Paris and she already changed hotels five times, not wanting to stay in one place for too long. Beyond moving from one hotel to another, she barely ventured past the protective boundaries of her rooms. Staring at four walls as she dwelled on the fruitless situation she was as her abdomen healed. But the air had been stifling and the alcohol in the mini bar was far too tempting.

She had managed to keep her wits about her for three weeks. But tonight she needed something to help her through this torment.

Tonight she broke.

She'd been unable to hold back a self-depreciating laugh as she poured the first shot of whisky, thinking of the strict advice her doctor gave her. Apparently her pills and alcohol didn't mix very well. She'd managed to abide by that advice for three weeks.

JJ had come back to her last night, providing her with the new identities and information for her new lives. She wouldn't be using them; she had her own in her bolthole, ones she'd created for herself years ago, before the FBI, before Doyle, when she was just a fledgling agent with Interpol. One of her mentors instilled the need to be able to walk away at a moment's notice, have another life to escape to. She just needed to muster the courage to get to her grandfather's property in the mountains. Emily knew it was a stupid place to keep her bolthole, but she hoped who ever came looking for her would over look such an obvious place to check.

Seeing JJ the night before stirred up all of the emotions she had been trying to ignore since that first phone call from Sean telling her Doyle had escaped. She had been relieved and guilty all at the same time, wondering exactly what strings JJ had pulled to be the one to meet her. Wondered what favours she'd promised.

At the time of her transfer Emily suspected that JJ's promotion to the Pentagon had been smoke screen and was dismayed when her suspicions were confirmed as JJ whisked her away from Bethesda. She hoped her friend was taking more precautions than she had all those years ago, hoping JJ avoided the same fate that had befallen her.

On the plane JJ confessed to feeling in over her head…Emily shook her head to dislodge those thoughts, wishing JJ had elaborated further, wishing she could have gone with JJ to help, wishing she could protect JJ like JJ was protecting her.

Emily swayed as she stood at the curb, looking up and down the street before crossing. Her gun dug into the small of her back and the smooth handle of her knife pressed into the bottom of her calf as she strode over the cobbled street to the shelter of the shop canopies. She felt the twinge in her torso with every step, the itch of the four leaf clover brand on the upper curve of her breast with every lift of her feet. She could still smell the sulphur of her burning flesh as Doyle laid his claim on her.

She breathed deeply, feeling woozy from the combination of the alcohol and her medication but she pressed on, ignoring it. She had to keep moving. She'd had three shots of whisky. If she hadn't left the hotel, she wouldn't have stopped at three.

So now she walked the streets of Paris.

Emily's heels clicked across the stone, the sound of water flicking when her heel lifted. Light shone out from the shop windows, but she didn't pay attention to the displays, just the shadows, checking for anyone who might be watching her. Just like she had for months now.

Doyle succeeded in doing what he promised.

He'd taken her life.

He'd destroyed her.

And now her friends believed she was dead.

She might as well have been.

Emily saw through JJ's neutral expression as she sat across from her at the street side cafe the night before. Devastation, heartbreak, and pity jumped out of her friend's blue eyes and she knew they were mirrored in her own. There was a spark of hope and relief to see each other still alive, but it paled in comparison. There were so many things she wanted to tell JJ but she didn't say any of them. But she couldn't say any of it, for the fear of the people listening in. Emily knew they would be, even if it was just their contacts, but she wouldn't expose their friendship like that. It wouldn't be fair to JJ.

Emily wanted to promise that she would be reunited with her and the others one day, if only to explain. She wanted to apologise for putting them in this situation, for bringing this danger to them, for all of the lies she had to tell. She wanted to tell JJ to look after Spencer and wipe away his tears. She wanted to tell her to spend more time with Penelope and make up for all of the girls' nights they wouldn't be having, wants JJ to do anything to make Penelope smile again. She wanted to make her promise to back Hotch in his decision. She wanted her to tell Morgan-

The only warning Emily had was the chiming of a bell and a young couple stepped out from the door way of the tattoo parlour and Emily stopped mid stride to avoid a collision. They stumbled to a halt when they noticed her, throwing her an apologetic smile before turning to continue up the path. She listened to them talk and laugh, watched as the guy held the corner of his coat and slung it over the girl's head to offer some protection from the elements. Her lips twisted into the first smile to adorn her face in weeks. It reminded her of something Morgan would do.

Morgan…

"_You know Emily, you really need to trust people," Morgan told her as he navigated the traffic._

"_I trust people," Emily lied. She knew he could see through her._

"_No you don't. You don't because you can't. And I get it. Every time you tried to count on someone they let you down, so you go it alone. You'll never admit that because you're too damn stubborn. It's all right. It doesn't really matter. But I'll tell you what does matter. That you can trust me Emily, with anything. I'm serious. No matter how awful you think it is, I promise you, you are not alone. I just wish you would believe that."_

"_I do."_

She did believe it. She trusted Morgan. But she wasn't going to risk him like that. Now he would be blaming himself for not pushing her to open up. She was sure of it. She wondered what would have happened if he pushed her just a little more.

Thinking back to their last night together, Emily closed her eyes. She felt safe as she shed the mask of composure and cried into him, her tears pooling on his skin, wishing that it was all just a nightmare and she would wake up at any moment. If Morgan asked her then what was wrong she didn't think she could have held back from him. She had been grateful when he kept silent and let her cry.

Doyle took that from her as well.

Morgan knew she had slept with Doyle. And their intimacy was now tainted by Doyle. Morgan would be second guessing their time together; he could never think about her and not think about Doyle. Even if she could go back home there would be no way to get that back, change that, because Doyle would always haunt them.

Emily knew Morgan forgave her for lying and understood why she had done what she had, that had been clear when he found her, begging her to stay with him, his stubborn refusal to let her go as he held her hand. She wanted him to let her go.

She wanted to let go.

Emily was certain Morgan would be looking for Doyle. He was persistent. He would never let her go. He would never let Doyle go. She hoped his persistence wouldn't get him killed.

She opened her eyes to see her reflection in the shop window. She was ghostly pale, her almost black pupils pierced through her reflection, her lips set in a thin line. She shivered from the cold. Her family thought she was dead. She was all alone on a deserted street in Paris.

She had been sent here to survive. Sent here to hide.

She wanted to die.

She could have ended it all tonight, because what was the point of living when everyone you loved thought you were dead. But the voice in the back of her head had told her to survive, a voice which strangely belonged to Penelope.

On the plane JJ's furrowed brow quickly disappeared when Emily had asked her to get the recordings, known why Emily would want to keep hold of something. Emily knew it was a strange, dangerous request, and she had no idea how JJ pulled it off. But the blonde had been able to access the voicemails left for her by the techie and smuggled them to Emily in the pack she'd given her last night.

"_Come home, please. God Emily what did you think, that we'd let you walk out of our lives. I am so furious at you right now! Then I think about how scared you must be, hiding in some dark place all alone. But you're not alone, okay? You are not alone. We are in that dark place with you. We are waving flashlights and calling your name. So if you can see us, come home. But if you can't, then…Then you stay alive, because we're coming."_

Emily bit back the sob which almost escaped. Emily listened to that recording over and over today, and now she didn't think she would ever forget the final message from her friend, every inflection, every pause, every time her voice broke as she fought the evident tears.

It had spurred her out of the hotel room after she started drinking. She had to escape, just for a little while. Escape her ghosts, because her memories were haunting her.

She desperately wanted to give up.

She would never be able to get that life back. She could never go back to the people she loved.

She should have stayed in the hotel room and kept knocking back the shot glass full of the amber liquid.

She was wandering aimlessly. No idea where she was going, or what she was looking for.

She was tired. She felt like she hadn't slept in months. She would never be able to rest. Had to keep moving, survive, and stay alive. She would always be waiting for Doyle to catch up with her, looking over her shoulder, listening for the cocking of the gun before it was fired. He would haunt her every move till the day she died.

Emily looked back at her reflection, exhaling with a slight grumble. She was looking for sign to not give up, a sign to keep fighting, to stay alive.

"_You could always get another tattoo…Like a blackbird."_

Her eyes refocused and then she saw it. In the middle of the intricate designs was the tiny glimmer of hope she was searching for. The black silhouette of a bird.

'_We can never turn back the pages of time, though we may wish to relive a happy moment, or say good-bye just one last time, we never can, because the sands of time continue to fall, and we can't turn the hourglass over.'_

_Unknown_

THE END


End file.
